The Rider from Rohan
by Nightwriter1
Summary: A Rohan Rider has a strange encounter and the story begins...
1. The Encounter

The Rider from Rohan 

                Leomen halted his gray stallion, Winfel.  He scanned the plains around him.  To his surprise he saw a lone man walking slowly north.  It surprised him because hardly anyone ventured on foot through the northwest corner of Rohan.  Leomen hesitated.  There was something strange about this traveler in black.  An eerie feeling crept into the back of his mind, but Leomen shrugged it off.  Even if this man posed a threat, Leomen had the advantage.  After all, the stranger was on foot.  _And how competent could he be if he doesn't even ride?_  He thought.  

            Leomen spurred Winfel forward towards the man.  He halted three paces in front of the man.  A black cowl covered him from head to toe.  He slouched feebly and rocked from foot to foot.  He fidgeted uncontrollably and Leomen wondered if the man was ill.  The man kept his head down and didn't look up even when Leomen asked his name.  

            "Who are you?"  He repeated himself.  Leomen didn't know whether it was annoyance or curiosity that drove him to edge his horse forward.  "Are you deaf man?  I said who are---"  

            But at that moment, the man lunged at him with a sword in hand.  Leomen recoiled by instinct alone.  He only had time enough to unsheathe a foot of his sword before the once haggard man bore down on him.  Leomen partially deflected the blow that would have decapitated him had he been on foot.  The brute's slash opened Leomen's right side and sent him sprawling to the tall grass.  

            Leomen rolled to free his sword and stood up hastily, but it wasn't the pain of his wound that brought him to his knees, nor was it another deadly advance by the cowled man, but the sight of the savage upon his horse galloping away.  His horse had been stolen.  Leomen knew he would never catch him.  

            When Winfel vanished from his sight, Leomen finally felt his wound.  He sat down and studied it.  Normally, his shirt of mail would have reduced the wound to a scratch, but not only had the cowled man's swing been swift it had been powerful.  The wound was deeper than expected, but he'd survive.  Leomen was more worried about his horse and about his own future, for what was a Rider without his horse?  


	2. The Meeting

Orlania Crispleaf and her companion, Fillsome Took, entered the Mark's Brew slowly.  They walked through the inn's door and into a gloomy common room lit by the fire at one end of the room.  It may not have been the most cheerful place, but it was far better than spending the night out in the rain.  Most of the patrons had left with the exception of three elderly gentlemen and a man in the corner.  The innkeeper half listened to their conversation as he slowly wiped down the tables.   

                "May I help you lady?"  The innkeeper asked as they sat down at a table by the fireplace.  He walked over to their table.  

                "Yes,"  Orlania nodded.  She pulled her drenched cloak from her shoulders and set it in front of the fire to dry.  

                The innkeeper's eyes widened at the sight of her pointed ears, but he didn't comment.  He did, however, raise an eyebrow at Fill.  Elves weren't a common sight in Rohan, but Hobbits weren't even sung about in song or addressed in myth.  

                "We shall need rooms for the night," she said drawing his attention from her friend.  

                "And dinner!"  Fill added eagerly.  

                "Our horses are outside,"  Orlania continued, "they will need to be fed and groomed."  

                "Yes lady,"  the innkeeper nodded and walked away to fetch the stable boy.  

                "I think I could eat a horse,"  Fill said ravenously.  "I feel like I haven't had food for a week."  

                "Your insatiable,"  Orlania shook her head.  "You ate this morning."  

                "We rode all day,"  Fill objected.  "That kind of exercise makes one hungry."  

                "You would never survive life in Mirkwood."  

                "I wouldn't want to if they don't have lunch,"  Fill retorted.  

                By now the innkeeper had returned with two plates generously filled with vegetables, roast duck, and potatoes.  He placed two cups in front of the companions and began filling them with wine.  

                "Excuse me sir,"  Orlania began,  "but you haven't by chance seen a man about six feet tall wearing a black cloak have you?"  

                "I can't say that I have,"  the innkeeper answered.  "What's his name?"  

                "His name is Jaridon Malkison,"  she answered.  

                "No,"  the innkeeper shook his head.  "I can't help you there."  

                "But I can,"  a voice from behind her said.  She turned around in her chair to see the man in the corner stand up.  He walked towards them out of one of the dark corners of the room.  He had a fair complexion with clear green eyes and long, braided, yellow hair.  He was tall for a human, long limbed.  He wore a blood stained shirt of mail and at his belt a long sword was sheathed.  He was clearly a Rohan Rider.  

                "And who might you be?"  Fillsome asked.  

                "I am Leomen son of Loman,"  he answered.  

                "What news have you?"  Orlania asked.  

                "The man you call Jaridon Malkison attacked me about ten miles west of here,"  Leomen said.  "He stole my horse and rode north."  

                "Then all is lost!"  Fillsome shouted in despair.  He looked down at the table as if to burst into tears.  

                "What is?"  One of the elderly gentlemen asked.  Their attention had been drawn away from their own discussion and was now focused eagerly on theirs.  

                "We seek to avenge a friend who was murdered by this man,"  Orlania explained.  "He is crazed.  If we do not overtake him before he reaches the Shire...."  

                "They won't be able to defend against him,"  Fill whimpered.  "We hobbits aren't warriors.  It'll be a slaughter."  

                "But why does he want _hobbits_?"  Asked the second gentlemen.  

                "As I said before, he is crazed,"  Orlania answered.  

                "You will not catch him if he continues to ride Winfel."  Leomen stated.  

                "We won't allow him to reach his destination,"  she replied firmly.  

                "Then I shall come with you,"  Leomen said.  

                "But you don't have a horse,"  Fill pointed out.  

                The third gentlemen, who was the oldest of the three, spoke up.  "You may ride my horse.  I can no longer ride anyway.  However, I would like her returned."  


End file.
